Archive of Our Own ^beta

Boyf
[photo attached]
what do u call a country of wordplays?
ja-pun.
hahaha.
get it?
ja-pun???

It’s the first text that his boyfriend sends after he lands at his next destination. No greetings, no direct information about where he is heading—nothing but a selfie and a pun. Yoongi smiles upon receiving the message. This is such a Seokjin thing to do.

Me
That one’s horrible

Boyf
its hilarious.
ur smiling rn i can tell.

Me
Whatever. So you’ve arrived. How’s the weather?

Boyf
twas nice.
tho not as nice as ur embrace.
i miss u terribly.
shall i order donburi or pizza 4 dinner?

Yoongi blinks several times at the screen, a twinge in his chest pulls an unknown string inside him. I miss u terribly. How does he reply to that?

Me
So corny|

Yoongi erases the message.

Me
Of course you d|

He erases the message again.

Me
I miss you too|

His thumb hovers over the send button, contemplating hard. Before erasing that one as well.

Me
Go for donburi

Boyf
donburi it is then.
plz eat smth as well bby.
dont b 2 tiny.

Me
Shut up I’m not tiny you’re just a giant
Go now shoo order the bloody donburi and have some rest

Boyf
k.
ttyl.
luv u.

He sucks in a breath.

Me
Yeah

Yoongi tosses his phone aside after pressing send for the last time that night and heaves out a long exhale. The days he spent in a temporary long distance relationship with Seokjin, unexpectedly, have been exhausting for him.

Their texts feel like a chore. Not because he doesn’t enjoy conversing with the elder, but because Yoongi always takes a long time to think about what to type; how to make his words seem as unassuming as possible, how to avoid bombarding Seokjin with too many questions about his trip that may tire him, and how to hold himself from asking ‘when are you coming home?’ when he knows the answer.

Yoongi figured that he’s just being uncharacteristically melodramatic, it’s not like the elder is moving to another country forever or anything. Yoongi was so sure that he would be fine with their regular text messages and occasional phone calls for two weeks, and well, everything has been fine; everyone behaves the same, his workloads still won’t finish themselves, the world still rotates on its axis. Nothing has changed except for the way his chest feels so heavy with something Yoongi can’t quite point out whenever he thinks of how far the elder is and how many days are left until they can see each other again.

It’s frustrating, really, in a way that is so unfamiliar it’s almost infuriating. Yoongi frankly had never expected his life to go this way. Never in his life had he thought that Yoongi would be in a committed relationship with anyone at the tender age of twenty seven—with this line of work, Yoongi thought he’d be single until at least thirty two. A year and a half ago, when Namjoon introduced him to his eldest brother, Yoongi had never foreseen that he and the said brother would continue seeing each other repeatedly until one day, Seokjin had looked him in the eyes asking, ‘hey, Yoongi. Let’s date,’ and Yoongi, without even an ounce of doubt, had laughed heartily saying, ‘sure, why not?’

So far, it seems like the right decision. Dating Seokjin is nearly as easy as simply existing, not once did Yoongi regret his commitment to the point where he finds it hard to believe that being in a relationship could be this easy. Because what are the odds that he got his housemate’s brother for a boyfriend? Well, actually the chance is pretty high, but still. He wonders how strange it is that Seokjin and him just, fit. Like it is the most natural thing in the world. They bicker all the time but very rarely upset each other and Yoongi doesn't know whether or not that is a good thing.

It feels so right being with Seokjin that Yoongi consciously plants a mental ticking bomb, baring himself for things to go haywire at any given moment.

For the meantime, everything is going as well as it can be but if he’s being honest, right now Yoongi feels antsy and weary. He keeps himself busy by immersing into mountains of work on his desk. Sometimes it helps, more often it doesn’t. Yoongi has to hold the urge to contact Seokjin every so often to avoid burdening him with his skittish tendencies, and it’s fair to say that he‘s been successful as he always ends up waiting for the elder to text or call first.

But Yoongi is alright, he can do this. Seokjin deserves a peaceful business trip. Yoongi had spent most of the years in uni by himself. He isn’t that clingy. He can’t let himself be clingy. It’s not like he and Seokjin saw each other every single day before the elder left, anyway. It's not that bad; just a few more days and they'll see each other again.

Yoongi can do this.

It can’t be that hard, can it? After all, he still has a group of friends that, for some reason, recently kept demanding his company amidst their respective busy schedules. They asked Yoongi to do the most random stuff with them, as if looking for an excuse to check on him every so often. It’s almost suspicious the way they did it, especially knowing the fact that two of Yoongi’s closest friends are his housemates; he’s still wondering why Namjoon and Hoseok asked him to go swimming with them at eleven PM because ‘we haven’t seen each other for ages’ when all three of them quite literally live together and none of them can properly swim.

In conclusion, Yoongi’s friends are acting weird—then again there are only a handful of things that aren’t weird about each and every one of them so he hadn’t tried to stop their shenanigans. If anything, it’s a good respite for the raging storm in—

Yoongi shakes the thoughts off. He’s just about to go back to his work when someone barges into his office with a loud bang.

“Hey again,” says his assistant for the tenth time that day.

Yoongi pinches the bridge of his nose, “Jungkook, how many times do I need to ask you to knock?”

“Sorry,” Jungkook doesn’t look even the slightest bit apologetic. “I’m letting you know; Tae is here. He wants to see you.”

“Why wou—“

“Nyoomfie!” Taehyung bursts through the door seemingly out of nowhere. Yoongi wishes there’s a more suitable word to describe what Taehyung does, but to put it simply, the younger practically catapults forward to wrap all four of his limbs around Yoongi, nearly knocking the eldest over. Jungkook happily joins in, draping himself on top of Taehyung and tucking his face in Yoongi’s chin. Yoongi notes that out of all the odd things his friends did, puppy-piling him like this still scores pretty low on the level of weirdness.

Instead of complaining, though, he acknowledges his younger friends’ overly affectionate gesture with little pats on their backs.

“What are you doing here at this hour?” He asks Taehyung.

“Seeing you!” Taehyung pulls away without letting go, then clicks his tongue in disapproval. “You look like Persephone emerging from the Trojan War.”

“I have zero idea of what that means.”

“It means you look like shit. The saddest of all shits. Trampled by horses and left to dry,” Jungkook helpfully interprets.

“Persephone never went to the Trojan War.”

“Aha! And you said you don’t know what that means,” Taehyung points out.

“Get out of my office this instant, both of you.”

“Yoonglebert, my fun-sized-brother-in-law-to-be,” Taehyung sing-songs as Jungkook scratches the back of Yoongi’s ear. “You need a break. Kookie is going to ask the HR for your day off tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow is Saturday, genius. I’ll have my break without anyone’s help whatsoever.” Yoongi swats Jungkook’s hand.

“As you should! Look, you’re not supposed to be at this building up until this late yet here you are hunching over the—see this, a completed diorama!”

“Neither is you. You don’t even work here.”

“My brother asked me to see you for him!”

A beat. Yoongi turns to face the duo. “Which brother?”

“The one who’s whipped for you, which else? Joon has forsaken the concept of non-eviromental concern long ago.”

“Seokjin asked you to visit me?” A rush of heat blooms in Yoongi’s cheeks.

Taehyung enthusiastically nods. “He said I should try and stop you from spending the night at your office again because Kookie had given up coaxing you home.”

“Then you just...obey him? You went all the way from your flat to my workplace near midnight just because your brother asked you so?”

Taehyung glances around. “I guess? What’s so confusing about that?”

“Never mind. How did Seokjin know that I’m still here, though?” Yoongi squints at Jungkook, who suddenly becomes interested in the carpet.

“Doesn’t matter!” Taehyung pulls Yoongi’s arm. “Now that my kindhearted self has decided to scoop you and your poor assistant out of your dull office, let’s go!”

“Go where?” Yoongi whines upon being dragged away.

Taehyung and Jungkook pause to exchange looks. Yoongi raises his eyebrows. What kind of sin has Yoongi committed that actually made the double trouble stop and think?

“Yoongi, what day is this?” The youngest asks.

“Uh, Friday?”

“Holy Mary, you forget.”

“Forget what?” Yoongi half-whispers, half-shouts.

“It’s Hobi’s birthday today, dumbass! You don't even read the group chat, do you?”

“What? Oh. Fuck.” Yoongi closes his eyes in exasperation. That’s right, he completely forgot his housemate’s birthday, what the hell. It’s worse that he saw Hoseok this morning, they even ate breakfast together. “Alright, fine. Can you...can you drop me off at some store or anywhere? I need to bring him something.”

Taehyung flashes a smile. He pulls his and Yoongi’s tightly interlaced fingers to his front, tapping the elder’s knuckles in encouragement.

“That’s the spirit!—Kookie, remember that you’re driving this time—next stop: 7-Eleven!”

.*.*.*.*.*.

He doesn’t have the highest standard when it comes to deeming something normal, but Yoongi believes that nothing feels more wrong than knocking on your own unlocked door as soon and he, Taehyung, and Jungkook arrive at his shared house—or more specifically, a place that Hoseok dubbed as Hobi’s Domestic Partee! (‘Yes. The two e’s and the exclamation mark are mandatory. Do not even think about spelling it without them.’ Hoseok warned on their group chat)

When the very door that Yoongi co-owns swings open, he’s immediately yanked forward by the wrist.

“Yoonjellicle!” Hoseok latches his arms about Yoongi’s middle. “You’re not dead!”

“I literally cooked you breakfast.” Yoongi patiently pats his back. When Hoseok pulls away, Yoongi holds out his palm to reveal a small box with green and red decorative bows tied around it. “Happy birthday. Sorry I’m late.”

Hoseok accepts the gift with a dramatic gasp, “this is just wonderful. Joon—ay, Joonie, c’mere! Our cat is still alive! Hey, Tae. Hi, Kookie. Good job dragging this Grinch out of his den.”

When Hoseok moves to hug Taehyung and Jungkook, a tall, dimpled figure pops out behind him as though spirituality summoned.

“Yoongles.” Namjoon engulfs Yoongi into a very careful embrace. What is it about his friends and their random hugs today? This isn’t his birthday. When it was last year, Yoongi only received two fist bumps and some hair ruffles (okay, and also one kiss, if he counts Seokjin—not that it’s an important detail or anything, definitely not  making Yoongi blush just to think about it), but then Namjoon opens his arms to hug Jungkook and Taehyung, too. Yoongi concludes that his friends are probably just feeling collectively affectionate or whatever.

“You know, I really thought that you’ve forgotten about my birthday,” Hoseok says to Yoongi as he closes the door behind them.

Yoongi shifts his weight. “Um...”

“But no worries! The party has just begun.” Hoseok slings his arm around Yoongi’s shoulders, leaning to whisper in his ear. “I saved the best snacks just for you.”

They are led inside the house where it’s filled with around ten other people. Their sizable yet simplistic living room has been transformed into a literal dance floor and Yoongi wonders when did his housemate have the time so set everything up in less than a day, considering it looked completely different just before he went to work this morning. Hoseok calls it a party (partee, whatever), but he thinks the vibe is way too lax to be one. This is not the type of setting where people go crazy or grind against strangers’ bodies as the music only functions as a subtle background noise. Yoongi even notices one of the attendees carrying Min Holly–his brown poodle–in their arms as the pup naps.

Hoseok keeps tugging Yoongi around, filling his plate with various baked goods and giving him a flute of fancy-looking champagne that he knows Hoseok won’t personally touch. After getting his best friend’s arms full of food, Hoseok scratches Yoongi’s chin with a huge grin, giddily leaving him to tend to other party guests.

Yoongi shakes his head. He hops up to one of the kitchen island stools, sorting through the pile of sweet doughs. There’s a scone. Seokjin loves scones. If he were here, he’d break the food in halves and put lots of butter and jam on it. But Seokjin isn’t here, is he, Yoongi? In reality, you’re sitting alone at your best friend’s party, staring miserably at a fucking brea—

—Shut up, he chastises himself. Scones aren’t exactly bread, smartass.

To silence his persistently yapping brain, Yoongi shoves a slice of brightly-coloured cake into his mouth without much thought. To his surprise, the cake actually tastes very good; Yoongi hums in satisfaction as the pleasant, slightly tangy combination of cream cheese and sliced tangerines hits his palate. Did Hoseok intentionally order this specific cake because Yoongi likes citruses? He makes a mental note to go through the online shops and get Hoseok another birthday present, probably ask Jimin to give him some recommendations.

Speaking of whom, where the hell is Jimin?

Yoongi whips his head around, strolling down the ground floor with a flute of champagne tightly clasped between his fingers. Amidst the busy chattering and the soft background music, Yoongi smiles as he catches a glimpse of a familiar lean figure on the opposite corner of the room. He saunters across the dance floor, taking a seat on one of the purple and yellow beanbags that Jimin is sitting on.

“Hey, Yoongs. Looking cute today.” The younger says without looking up.

“Hey.” Yoongi studies his face. “You okay?”

Jimin keeps his gaze down, hand fiddling with an empty wine glass.

“I’m gonna be.” He eventually looks up, offering a kind, understanding smile. “You’re not, though.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Yoongi says, knowing exactly what Jimin means, “what happened?”

“Namjoon proposed to me.”

“WHAT?!” Yoongi jumps. “And you said yes?”

“Would’ve been awkward if I didn’t, don’t you think?”

“Fucking hell. Oh, Jimin, congratulations! But…why didn’t he mention anything about it to me?”

Jimin locks his gaze on Yoongi for a moment, before averting his eyes back to his glass. “Thanks. Please don’t feel bad, by the way. He’s about to tell everyone. Joon’s speaking to Hobi now.”

“Oh, okay. Wow.” Yoongi buries himself back down the beanbag. “What’s with the long face, then?”

A long pause. Yoongi counts a total of thirteen...heartbeats before the younger sighs. Right before he’s ready to drop the subject, Jimin speaks.

“I don’t know. I think I’m...worrying. About how things will unfold from now on. Believe it or not, we never talked about the next step, so I just thought that he would like us to stay this way for the longest time. And honestly, I’m not against marriage in any way, but...” Jimin exhales, “I’m not sure if I’m ready now. I wish we had a talk beforehand.”

“Then have a talk afterhand. Just because you’re now engaged doesn’t mean that you need to get married right away, does it?”

“We eventually will. I don’t even know what I’m worried for, really. It’s just—” Jimin shakes his head.

“I understand. It’s terrifying.”

Jimin huffs. “Damn right it is. Good lord, Yoongi, can you imagine me in a white veil? Scary as fuck.”

Yoongi laughs. He can actually imagine the whole scene; Namjoon, breaking the cake stand whilst practicing his vow. Jimin, all stressed out but all and all overwhelmed with joy. The rest of their friends, too busy crying and/or teasing the newlyweds. And then there will be Yoongi and Seokjin, sitting side by side on a—

“Ah, sorry for being like this.” Jimin rubs his eyes, his voice breaks Yoongi out of his brief trance. “We frankly planned all this not only for Hobi but also to cheer you up. Alas, here I am. All doom and gloom and ruining the night.”

Yoongi turns to Jimin. “I mean, you could just keep this strictly Hoseok-centric. Why bother including me into today’s agenda? ”

Jimin’s affronted glare almost makes Yoongi duck his head in apology, but he forces himself to hold their eye contact. “Because that’s what friends do, jackass. The real question is, why the hell are you asking me that? Regardless of how often your resting bitch face makes me want to punch you, we still fucking love you and we won’t hesitate to steal the moon for you if it makes you smile, dammit.”

There’s something comical yet undoubtedly endearing about how much offense Jimin took. Yoongi fails to hold back a snort.

“Then don’t feel bad when I’m trying to return the favour, asshole, you’re not ruining anything. It’s really okay to not feel okay now, but in the future, you need to believe me when I say that all of us are only one phone call away from helping you choose the wedding decorations. You’re not going to face this alone.” Yoongi pats Jimin’s knee. “I promise.”

And that’s all it takes to make Jimin’s frown slowly melts into a grin, not as wide as how it normally looks but just enough for Yoongi to notice the underlying relief. A visible stiffness on the younger’s shoulders loosens down just a little as he rests his head on Yoongi’s temple and—welp, here comes another hug—wraps his arms around him.

“I’ll keep that in mind, Yoongs.”

Yoongi and Jimin stay like that for an ample amount of time; they watch as Jungkook unsuccessfully tries to sneak two big pieces of cake into a (stolen) Tupperware and Taehyung holding a dog treat above Min Holly’s sleepy head. They watch Namjoon and Hoseok, still talking animatedly in the corner. For some reason, Namjoon makes a strange gesture that resembles a panicked chicken and Hoseok solemnly nods at him like it makes perfect sense. The other guests pass them by, some gather in a small circle, chattering away.

Despite the rather chaotic scenery (and a pretty chaotic heart), Jimin’s arms are so steady and comfortable that Yoongi can’t contain the growing lethargy that starts to catch up to him. He wills himself to relax whilst his friends and Hoseok’s guests continue to occupy the place that Yoongi calls home for nearly four years with their spaceful presence. Looking at them again, Yoongi thinks he’s finally able to draw a conclusion to some of his earlier questions.

“I see.” He nods. “I do look like Persephone emerging from the Trojan War.”

“Sorry, who?”

“No one. Just—Taehyung.”

“Oh.” Jimin nods back, not questioning any further.

“Is that why you and everyone kept searching for an excuse to meet me? To cheer me up?”

“Well, uh...kinda,” Jimin sounds sheepish, “but aside from that, I personally thought that it’s good since we didn’t see each other often enough before. Are you bothered by it? I can tell the others if you are.”

“Oh, no, no. I agree,” Yoongi rushes to say, “I’m not bothered. I like it, hanging out with you guys. We really need to meet up more often.”

“Ah, great, then. But you know, Yoongi…” Jimin’s quiet murmur vibrates around Yoongi’s skull, “about Jin, you can just tell him. Or any of us.”

“Tell you what?” Yoongi attempts a nonchalant tone.

“I mean, whatever you feel right now. Him not being here and all.”

There’s a careful lilt in Jimin’s voice that Yoongi manages to catch. His friends are very sweet, they have always put their best effort to lift one another’s spirits in their own unconventional ways. Hence, when one of them directly confronts the other about the actual problem, and that other person is Yoongi, he doesn’t quite know what to say. What does he feel?

He feels uncomfortable. Agitated, antsy. Suffocated, at worst, but because of what? Is it solely because of his boyfriend’s absence?

“I don’t know,” Yoongi’s voice is small, “I don’t know what to tell anyone, Jimin. I confuse myself all the time.”

Jimin wraps his arms around him tighter, and Yoongi decides that by the end of the day, he doesn’t mind receiving as many hugs as his friends can give.

“That’s okay. We’re all here whenever you want to talk. Okay, Yoongs?”

“Okay.”

“Good.”

“...”

“Shall we help Jungkook steal the cake? Poor kid has been struggling to close the lid for ten minutes straight.”

“I was just about to ask you the same question.”

.*.*.*.*.*.

Yoongi blinks into the darkness.

It’s probably somewhere around midday or, something similar. He can’t quite tell because there’s no string of sunlight peeking out his curtains. When he tries to sit, an unfamiliar weight on his torso keeps him in place.

His heartbeat accelerates. Fuck, did Yoongi accidentally get someone in his bed? Was he that drunk last night? Did he unintentionally cheat on Seokjin? In a moment of horror, he slowly turns around only to be welcomed with…Kim Taehyung’s sleeping face.

The boy is wearing Avenger-printed pyjamas, (courtesy of Namjoon’s assorted pyjama collections, Yoongi believes) with his arms and legs thrown over Yoongi’s kitten-printed bolster and Yoongi himself, lips curling into an adorable pout.

Yoongi sighs in relief. The chain of events starts playing back in his mind; after their talk, he went to the kitchen with Jimin to help Jungkook stuff two jumbo cake slices into a (stolen) Tupperware, then one by one the guests came home until only six of them remained, then they watched misty-eyed Namjoon announcing his engagement with Jimin as the latter got his own eyes just as misty as his fiancé’s, then they drank some more alcohol and called a very sleepy Seokjin, then Yoongi felt like crying listening to his boyfriend’s groggy voice, then Taehyung, Jungkook, and Jimin decided to have a sleepover at their house, then Yoongi offered Taehyung his own bed to share as Hoseok offered his to Jungkook, then he saw Taehyung falling into a very peaceful slumber just seconds after his head made a contact with Yoongi’s pillow, then Yoongi found himself barely catching any sleep beside his younger friend.

His mind kept turning on and off on its own. It doesn’t seem to know whether Yoongi’s supposed to be awake or asleep. Yoongi just needs one good sleep, for God’s sake.

Deliriously, Yoongi gets up as quietly as he can. He thought about washing up, but decided against it a millisecond later. A long walk around the blocks may persuade his body to take a proper rest by the time he circles back home.

Yoongi grabs his fluffiest light pink hoodie that used to be Seokjin’s (by coincidence, of course. It’s the fact that the hoodie has the best material that Yoongi picks it, one hundred percent not because it still smells faintly like his boyfriend’s cologne, yup), he grabs the keys and his phone, toeing around the messy remnants of last night, easily slipping into a pair of tacky crocs, and opens the door to find that...

It’s raining.

How does it rain in February? Mother nature is one crazy deity.

Yoongi shrugs, reaching for a padded jacket on the coat hanger that may or may not belong to Hoseok. Hood up and umbrella on, he walks through the downpour, anyway.

.*.*.*.*.*.

As expected, not a single soul can be found around the entire cul-de-sac. Yoongi savours in the noisy silence, the sound of raindrops hitting on the pavement and trickling down his umbrella. He keeps walking and walking, making one impulsive turn to head away from the relatively quiet neighbourhood into a busier part of Seoul, then keeps meandering away for around thirty minutes.

At one point, he stops.

Of course he would end up here of all the other places he could’ve strolled through. To the familiar broken street lamp and his second favourite bakery, the road screams of flashback; this was the place where Seokjin kissed him for the first time.

When he scans through the memory again, Yoongi realised that back then the whole setup was perfect as if it came straight out of a romantic K-drama or some shit; snowflakes gently drifting around them, the city buzzed with restless people and busy vehicles, sky above the gentlest shade of grey.

That afternoon, Seokjin and Yoongi were walking arm in arm down the vacant pavement after their very late lunch date. Yoongi’s front was flush against the elder’s side, seeking warmth. When the winter breeze blew into their direction, Yoongi instinctively wrapped his arms around Seokjin’s waist to hide from the cold. For some reason, Yoongi had a low body temperature whilst Seokjin was the complete opposite, and the younger made use of that advantage to the fullest. Seokjin, of course, had let him. He circled an arm around Yoongi’s shoulder to keep their non-existent gap short, the proximity made Yoongi blush involuntarily. He said ‘sorry’ without making any effort to move as he looked up to find Seokjin staring down at him with the fondest gaze saying, ‘no worries, stay close to me’.

Yoongi doesn’t know what got to them that day, or if Seokjin was actually the one who made the first move, but the next thing he knew, their lips met with the softest touch. There’s no rush, no urgency in the way it unfolded. Their first kiss probably only lasted for two seconds but Yoongi’s heart felt indefinitely warm.

Back into the present, Yoongi resumes his walk.

Maybe that’s where he got things wrong, he contemplates. Because after that one halcyon moment, the couple got stuck. Yoongi wasn’t quite sure of how to express himself intimately, so afraid of scaring Seokjin away if he was being too upfront. All of his insecurities unknowingly reduced their physical contact to a bare minimum; their kiss never led anywhere, the hugs never lasted for more than a few seconds.

The worst part is, Seokjin always let Yoongi do whatever he liked with them. The elder still made sure that Yoongi was comfortable with the way things progressed when he murmured, ‘I love you. Will you be okay with that?’ during the time they sat in Seokjin’s flat watching something Yoongi can’t quite recall. The confession had taken Yoongi by surprise, but he received it with a word of gratitude. A surge of cold rushed down Yoongi’s spine when Seokjin said, ‘you don’t have to say it back’—

“MOTHER, KAKAOTALK AUDIO.”

The voice of his annoying Siri jolts him back to reality. Yoongi curses, he should’ve left his phone at home. “Hello?”

“Dumpling,” his mother’s soft voice greets, “how are you?”

“As well as I can be. Why do you call, Mother?”

“Do I really need a reason to call my son? You could’ve just said how are you back but no, all I get is a cold shoulder.”

Yoongi sighs. “Hey, Mum. How are you and Dad?”

“Funny you ask. We’re wonderful, dear, absolutely glorious. What a gorgeous time to be alive, indeed. Have you been eating well?”

“I believe so.” Yoongi says with a scoff. His mother is always full of flair.

“Good, good. Oh, and how’s Seokjin? What are you guys up to these days?”

“He—well, uh, he’s...fine. I guess. I mean, yeah. Seokjin is fine. At least, I hope he is.”

The other line goes silent for a few seconds. Yoongi is pretty sure that his mother is frowning at the phone. “You don’t sound too sure, what happened? Dumpling, did you and Seokjin break up?”

“Wha—no! God, no. I just haven’t seen him for the last couple of weeks, Mum. He’s on a business trip to Japan.”

“Ah, what a relief,” his mother laughs, “Lord knows how long it‘s going to take you to have another proper relationship with an actual human being after yet another break up. You’ll want to date Min Holly again!”

“Mum,” Yoongi whines.

“I’m just teasing you, honey, cheer up a little. You sound like a depressed feline.”

Being compared to a mentally disturbed animal should be nothing but a playful remark. However, after around two weeks of pretending that he’s doing fine, the words just feel like a final blow to his leaking dam. Literally everyone knows that Yoongi is everything but fine—even the person that he can’t see is aware of that.

“I might as well be one.”

“Hush now, don’t be so dramatic,” his mother doesn’t seem to pick up the change of mood, though. In a way, Yoongi is grateful. The last thing he needs right now is for someone to fuss over his tangled thoughts. “When will Seokjin come home?”

“He’s flying back in three days, thank you for asking.”

“That’s great! Well, I just wanted to check on you because we haven’t heard about you for a while—you neglectful child. I’ll leave you alone now. Cook Seokjin something nice, will you? Give him lots of hugs and kisses for us when he comes home. I love you.”

“I will. Love you too, Mum.”

As soon as the phone call ends, Yoongi feels a lump in his throat. Hugs and kisses. The things that Yoongi took for granted when Seokjin was near, the things that he longs for. Three more days before they see each other again and now he’s sadder than ever.

Yoongi kicks a stray rock. He can’t really blame other people for this. His mother meant well, both her and his father did. Yoongi’s parents have always been the least unbearable people amongst the classist, conceited Min family. They have always been so supportive of him that Yoongi is often amused by the fact that his parents are probably more excited about his current relationship than he is. Not that he doesn’t understand, though, as Seokjin is the epitome of a perfect son-in-law; well-put-together, otherworldly good-looking, super kind and polite.

Yoongi’s parents are ecstatic, and it has nothing to do with the fact that his boyfriend is loaded. Yoongi and his parents know that a marriage between two powerful families doesn't always guarantee a secured partnership—such a thing mainly exists in soap operas—mutual interests do. It occurs to him that the only reason as to why his parents had always tried to hook him up with young, rich businessmen before he dated Seokjin was simply because they wanted their youngest son to settle down in a comfortable life before he turns thirty. Which was somehow sweet, but overall presumptive and condescending; they basically assumed that Yoongi couldn't live well on his own.

He can, okay? Yoongi's an independent man, one hundred percent capable of getting by in this highly idealistic world all by himself. He just...doesn't want to, at this moment. It’s hard to admit after all the denial but now Yoongi can say with an utmost certainty that he sucks at this whole long-distance relationship bullshit. How the hell do people survive this? Who made this thing an actual thing that exist in the first place? Dammit, Yoongi fucking misses his boyfriend. There he said it.

It’s terrible being in this state as Yoongi’s mundane life barely changes, it just looks different. He feels like someone is putting a sad filter in the back of his eyes; the scenery doesn’t change shape, but everything is tainted in blue—the damn colour gets more vivid each and every day. He wonders if this is just his accumulated years of loneliness manifesting, but that doesn’t feel right either. It’s a different feeling than being simply lonely because even amongst a whirr of crowd, Yoongi still feels empty. No. He wants his tall, dorky boyfriend back because—

His mental gear stops rotating.

Something floats through Yoongi’s mind; a metaphorical courier pigeon sending him a message that spells you’re in love.

Huh.

It clicks. Yoongi is in love with Seokjin, the person he’s dating. It sounds so stupid in his own head because shouldn’t people be in love with their significant other before they begin a relationship? Seokjin had confessed to him much sooner and all Yoongi gave to him in return was a smile and thought causes something uncomfortable to swell at the bottom of his stomach like a hot air balloon. He thinks that maybe—just maybe—the reason for a weight in his chest is not just longing; it’s Yoongi’s own unresolved feelings and tremendous guilt for his reluctance to fully reciprocate the affection he received. Maybe it’s been there before Seokjin even left.

His nose starts to feel clogged, the back of his eyes burn with nauseating tears but Yoongi doesn’t allow himself to cry. You can just tell him. Jimin’s voice rings in his ears. Or any of us. 

Rain patters on, and Yoongi turns on his heel. He feels like going home for the first time in a long while.

.*.*.*.*.*.

The house has returned to its initial tidy state but Yoongi can’t find any trace of Jimin’s presence. In fact, he can’t find anyone that isn't his housemate.

Upstairs, Yoongi ventures deeper into the first floor where there are no Taehyung on his bed and no Jungkook in Hoseok’s bed, the three youngest probably went home together when Yoongi was away. Going closer into the end of the hallway, he can hear Mario Kart sound FX faintly playing in the background as he finds Hoseok and Namjoon; both of whom are sitting against the headboard of Namjoon’s bed with a joystick in their hands. Yoongi strides up to them. He clambers to an empty space between two of the housemates who pay him no mind—until one of them screams in defeat when their character loses.

Hoseok puts his joystick down, turning to see Yoongi. The boy’s slender fingers spread apart to pet Yoongi’s hair; an absentminded gesture the elder has come to enjoy over the course of their friendship. “Hi, Yoongs. Where have you been all day?”

“Out.” Yoongi replies, simple and sombre.

Namjoon places a hand on Yoongi’s forehead, “Are you sick? You look pale. Er, I mean—you are always pale but the skin is usually kinda glowy too and now it’s just like, pale.”

Yoongi smiles. He’s the eldest of this bunch, but he cherishes the feeling of being nurtured by his younger friends this way once in a while, the sweetest way they know how. “I’m not.”

“What is it, then? Something bothers you?”

“Yes.” Yoongi huffs. “But you already know that.”

“‘Course we do, you have to tell us what’s really on your mind, though. There’s no way for us to be sure.” Namjoon says with a shrug.

“Yeah, Yoonglicat. Come tell besties.” Hoseok scoots closer.

Yoongi doesn’t even bother to snicker at him. He counts to ten, feeling his heart clench as he says, “I think I’m in love.”

“YOU CHEATED ON SEOKJIN?!” Hoseok basically roars.

“The f—No! I’m in love with him!” Yoongi screeches back before slumping against the pile of pillows. He says in a much softer voice, “I’m in love with my boyfriend.”

Both of his friends stare at him.

“It’s great, then!” Hoseok starts.

“Uh-huh. Why are you sad?” Namjoon looks puzzled.

Yoongi tugs at the fabric of Hoseok’s fragrant pillowcase, weighing down his next answer.

“Because…” he tries, “because it feels horrible, and I just realised it when he’s away. I’m horrible.”

“No, Yoongi...” Hoseok cards his fingers through Yoongi’s sleek dark locks all the while Namjoon gingerly strokes Yoongi’s back. “You’re not horrible. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“But I am.” Yoongi croaks out.

“No, you’re not! Tell me how you’re suddenly a horrible person just because you love someone?”

That’s not the point—is it?

“I don’t—It’s because…” The words that are about to roll out of Yoongi’s mouth won’t make any sense. “I just feel so bad. They talk about how beautiful and tender falling in love feels but I don’t feel good at all. I led Seokjin on for more than a year, one whole year I let him think that I don’t love him as much as he loves me. I fail as a boyfriend.”

“Yoongs,” it’s Namjoon’s voice this time, “er...not to insult your emotional intelligence or anything, but has it ever occurred to you that things might not be as awful as your head wants you to believe?”

Hoseok thoughtfully hums. “I agree. I don’t think you led him on—I mean, you’re dating, for fuck’s sake. The way I see it, it’s like you’re...resisting? Honestly, Yoongi, what prompts you to hold back this much?”

Yoongi doesn’t immediately reply. He combs back into the memory of him just last night, hesitating to admit that he missed Seokjin through a damn text. The way he opened his eyes to cut their kiss short at the airport when he internally wished Seokjin would pull him back. The twinge in his heart when he heard Seokjin’s confession; how it’s screaming the words he was supposed to return the same time Yoongi suppressed it to fester at the bottom of his system.

The answer is right in front of him. Yoongi has always known why. He takes a deep breath.

“I guess I’m just scared that we’re going too fast...only to crash shortly after, and it all happens because I’m not careful.”

“But now you feel that you’re being too careful.” Namjoon summarrises.

“Yeah, turns out I wasn’t capable of finding the middle ground.”

“Oh, come on. Now I know that you’re just being unnecessarily pensive about this,” Hoseok grumbles, “it’s not rocket science, Yoongs. You’re dating a person, not a fucking AI. Allow yourself to leisurely relish the man once in a while!”

Yoongi grimaces. “The last sentence sounds like you’re suggesting me recreational cannibalism.”

“I have to concur,” Namjoon adds.

Hoseok considers this, before waving a dismissive hand.

“To hell with syntax! You know what I mean.” Hoseok leans in, knocking his knuckles once on Yoongi’s forehead with each word that follows. “Stop. Thinking. Too much.”

He then finishes his speech with a sharp pinch on Yoongi’s nose. The eldest yelps, shoving his younger friend to the edge of the bed out of sheer reflex.

“Jeez, fine, I get it. Less thinking, more doing,” Yoongi says, rubbing circles around his reddened nose.

“Exactly! Action speaks louder than words!” Hoseok cheerily answers from the floor.

Namjoon nods. “Also, I think I need to tell you in case it’s not obvious enough; my brother is genuinely enamoured by you. I mean, like, I don’t remember the last time he’s ever been this smitten with another person. You quite literally don’t need to do much, Yoongs. Jin won’t mind waiting for you to feel the same as long as you’re willing to try.”

“I see,” and that’s the problem, “now that I do feel the same, how can I make it up to him?”

“Well, the next step will be to tell him, don’t y’think?” Hoseok crawls back to his spot, wiggling his eyebrows. “The easiest way to show him that your feeling has changed is through hardcore seduction.”

It takes a moment for Yoongi to fully process Hoseok’s words. When he finally catches up, his face burns.

“I don’t need to hear this.” Namjoon covers his ears.

“Joonie, stop acting like a nun, I heard you and Minnie last night. You know it’s a good idea,” Hoseok purrs, threading his fingers through Yoongi’s hair again.

“You pervert. No, but Yoongs—I’m sure that a nice, simple surprise will be much appreciated. It doesn’t necessarily have to be obscene,” Namjoon says with both index fingers still pressed into his earlobes.

“That’s right! You can do it in private! Just arrange yourself a sleepover at his flat—you know, build the mood by bringing the spiciest Yankee candle and wear something sexy while you’re at it—then you try and do your best to give him the most earth-shattering orgasm he‘s eve—“

“We haven’t.”

Hoseok instantly gapes at Yoongi. Even Namjoon slowly lowers his fingers off his ears.

“You and Seokjin haven’t...?“ Hoseok flails his hands around.

Yoongi shakes his head, feeling even smaller every passing time.

“Damn,” Namjoon mutters.

“Yeah…” Yoongi remorsefully agrees. “Even if I, uh, I want to do that, I still have to wait until he comes back. What can I do now?”

Hoseok clears his throat. “Well, for now, how about a FaceTime? Have you tried to do that?”

“Face—no? We mostly just text.”

“Yes. Well, you can FaceTime him, right? Tell him everything you just told us and, you know.” Hoseok shrugs. “Say the three magic words.”

“Righ, a video call. I think he’ll like that.” Yoongi silently makes another mental note to buy his friends tons of chicken this week, all five of them. For now, he hopes that a sincere smile is enough to convey how grateful he is of them, to this adorable group of brats that never fails to give Yoongi the best support. “Thanks, guys.”

Both Namjoon and Hoseok simultaneously coo at him. They pet his hair and scratch his chin mumbling ‘no problem’, and ‘oh, you’re cute as fuck’, and ‘kitty kitty cat’. Yoongi lets them.

After their impromptu counseling session, the three best friends lay on Namjoon’s bed side by side. Silence wraps over them like a comfortable blanket, their mere presence an enough company to spend a rainy afternoon with. Yoongi brings his hand up his chest, it’s way lighter now.

“For real. I never said it, but I’m very pleased that things are actually working out between you and Jin,” Namjoon breaks the silence with a yawn, “though I still don’t understand what you see in him—or anyone in any of my brothers, on that front. They cosplayed as Sango and Kirara once upon a Halloween.”

Yoongi snorts. “Seokjin cosplayed as Sango?”

“No, he cosplayed as Kirara.”

“You know what? That’s actually the least surprising information I’ve received in the last two days.”

“I have no idea what you guys are referring to.” Hoseok snuggles deeper into his pillow. “Fucking weebs.”

Namjoon looks offended. “You watched Howl’s Moving Castle with Kookie and Minnie the other day.”

“They forced me to!”

“You cried! The movie isn’t even sad.”

With the sound of his friends bickering beside him, Yoongi quietly chuckles in amusement. He rolls to a side, fishing his phone out of his pocket and starts typing.

Me
Seokjin, are you working late tonight?

.*.*.*.*.*.

Later that night as he gets to his room, Yoongi hurriedly goes to wash up and change into the most decent-looking pyjamas he can find in his wardrobe. His palms somehow get so clammy that he almost drops his laptop as he puts it on top of his desk. He glanced at his alarm clock; less than half an hour before Seokjin goes back to his hotel. He stares at the screen, fidgets, then grabs his giant kitten-printed bolster to calm himself down. It’s just a video call, not a big deal.

Until it is.

For the remaining time, he scrolls through his phone in an attempt to relax. Twenty minutes passes, and Yoongi almost completely forgets to be nervous halfway into the conspiracy theory video that he’s engrossed in when Seokjin finally calls. Yoongi jerks up on his seat, automatically smooths his fringe, slapping his cheeks lightly, and receives the call with a racing heart.

The image on his screen comes to focus, revealing a broad figure sitting in a cream-walled room.

“Baby,” Seokjin says with a grin as soon as Yoongi’s face appears on his own screen.

Yoongi notes that although the video is pretty grainy, it does nothing to distort his boyfriend’s natural good looks; Seokjin has discarded his jacket and tie, leaving only a plain white button down shirt with both sleeves loosely rolled up around his forearms. His chestnut hair is slicked back, exposing a pair of prominent brows that the younger secretly envies. The lips, well, looking as kissable as they always do. Also, his eyes? Those big, sharp, piercing eyes? Yeah, this man is going to be the death of him someday. Yoongi lets out a breath he’s unconsciously holding.

“Hi, Seokjin,” he lamely greets back.

“Hi. Oh, it’s so great seeing your pretty little face again. Why haven’t I thought about making video calls before?”  Seokjin grouses. “I miss you so, so badly.”

He said he missed you! Say it back, say it back, sa— “How’s the weather?”—you fucking idiot.

“The weather?” Seokjin glances at the window. “Nothing remarkable about it. Cold air, no snow, and—yeah, that’s pretty much it. Isn’t it the same back home?”

“Hmm, I guess? Here it’s also cold, mostly dry. But it was raining today. I don’t know how that’s possible.”

“Ah. We live on an insane planet, it seems like.”

That's what I thought. “Yeah. So...how’s the final meeting going?”

Seokjin groans, throwing his arms upwards in annoyance. “Ugh. Boring, but I’m glad that it’s over for good. The catering is great, though! Like, seriously, Yoongichi, the authentic salmon mentai I had this morning was phenomenal. It’s a shame they didn’t allow me to have more to go for you and the boys. I really wish you were here to savour its excellence.”

Yoongi brings his legs up, pressing the kitten-printed bolster closer to his chest. Seokjin is just saying that matter-of-factly, and yet a mere truth about how Yoongi can’t taste the so-called authentic salmon mentai reminds him of the reason why he’s even here staring at his boyfriend’s faraway frame through a rectangular screen. The thought causes a familiar clog in Yoongi’s nose to return. “I wish I was there, too.”

The elder frowns. He drags his laptop forward to take a better look at Yoongi’s face. “Baby, are you alright? Any specific reason for this FaceTime that I should be worrying about?”

Yoongi shakes his head, eyes getting more watery the more he speaks, “I just want to see you talking to me.”

“Aw, Yoongichi, y—wait, are you crying?”

“No,” Yoongi sniffs.

“Oh, God, you’re actually crying. Don’t cry, baby,” Seokjin’s laugh sounds bright and tinkling. Not at all much of a help to Yoongi's current state. “You really want to see me that bad, huh?”

And that does the trick.

When the first teardrop stains his cheek, all of a sudden Yoongi is unable to contain a wave of sobs that wrecks his chest.

He hates crying with his whole being; it always makes him dizzy and snotty and so tired by the end. It’s no different if not worse this time because his concrete dam has completely broken, a tsunami of repressed emotions barreling down to drown him. It’s not like Yoongi didn’t expect the tears, but he certainly isn’t prepared for a breakdown. Everything that Yoongi inwardly rehearsed for the last two hours—from what he had been feeling all the way to the grand declaration of love—goes straight down the drain with his own choked off breaths momentarily disabling him out of any capabilities to arrange his thoughts, the momentum gone. It’s difficult to get a few coherent words across, let alone a whole paragraph. This whole mess could’ve been easier to deal with if he had been honest.

Conversely, Yoongi may not actually need to say anything as he sees his boyfriend sitting idly still on the other side of the screen. The glint in his eyes looks evidently amused, but also compassionate. Seokjin understands.

“I hate you. I h-I hate this. I knew you’re just gonna make fun of me.” Yoongi continues to weep.

“No, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to,”  Seokjin says with a giggle. That bastard. “You’re just so cute that I can’t resist teasing. Please don’t hate me, baby.”

Yoongi glares, but he’s aware that whatever expression he has on his face right now won’t look threatening. After all, it’s not like Yoongi can actually hate Seokjin. Never even if he tries.

“Just—“ Yoongi blows his nose. “—Come home soon, dickhead. I’m having a crisis here and if you’re going to laugh at my misery at least do it in person so that I can kick you.”

“Ooh, kinky, I like that. Or should I say...kicky?”

“I’m hanging up, I swear to Go—“

“Wait, no! Yoongichi, kitten, the apple of my eyes.” Seokjin lets out a final fit of hyena laugh that lasts for several seconds before composing himself. He straightens his posture, leaning closer to the camera with an expression so fervent it sends a tingling sensation straight into Yoongi’s stomach.

He says, “you don’t need to worry, my sweet. When I’m back to your side, you’ll barely notice a day has passed.”

There’s an odd finality in the way Seokjin speaks; a rare, somewhat-assertive tone that Yoongi hasn’t been on the receiving end of before. The younger shrugs it off as an inconsequential detail.

“That makes no sense.” Yoongi hiccups some of the residual sobs. He realised that tears have stopped streaming down his face, leaving nothing in him but fatigue. “Now let’s just end the call here. I need to leave you to rest and I can’t—I can’t really talk like this. I’m too emotional to hold a proper conversation with you right now.”

“Why, of course, Yoongichi. Take your time.”

“Text me, though. You don’t...have to do it every time you’re free. Just update me once or twice a day.”

A soft smile adorns Seokjin’s lips. “Most willingly.”

“Night, Seokjin.”

“Mm. Good night, baby. I love you.”

There, Yoongi’s courier pigeon pushes, go for it.

“I love you, too.”

Yoongi completely misses how shaken Seokjin looks as he rushes to hit the end call button. He jumps head first into the bed, pushing his phone as far away as possible whilst slamming his face into Min Holly’s soft curls to bury a long squeal.

He repeats the words over and over in his head like a lullaby, muttering I told him, I told him, I told him, until his eyelids become heavy.

.*.*.*.*.*.

Yoongi doesn’t remember falling asleep when the sound of his blaring ringtone pierces through his consciousness.

He pats around the mattress, blindly reaching for the gadget to see who the hell is crazy enough to call him at...what time is this, five AM? This better be important. He cracks open one eye to peer at the caller ID that reads—

Boyf.

Yoongi scrambles out of the duvet. He cringes when he taps on the answer button a little bit too harshly.

“Seokjin, is everything alright?” Yoongi hopes that he doesn’t sound overly panicked.

“Hi, baby,” Seokjin casually replies, “I’m sorry, did I wake you?”

“I—yes, you actually did. Please tell me that you’re alright.”

“I’m fine, I’m fine! Listen, er...could you perhaps open the door? I’m outside and it’s bloody cold out here.”

Yoongi scowls. “Come again?”

“I’m at your door, Yoongichi. Please let me in before I get frostbitten.”

Yoongi freezes. It can’t be. Seokjin can’t be—God. Yoongi bolts out of his bed. He skips the flight of stairs two steps at a time, sprinting down the living room to get to the entryway. The beat of his heart is jumping through his pyjama top as he reaches out to grip the doorknob.

Needless to say, Yoongi’s breath hitches.

All of his sleepiness seeps away as he sees Seokjin standing before him with tousled hair and flushed nose from what Yoongi assumes was caused by the winter air, yet along with them a smile that could heat up an entire city.

“Seok—“

And Yoongi never gets to finish the sentence because all of a sudden, his words are abruptly muffled by a pair of mildly chapped lips.

The smaller immediately closes his eyes, his fingers travel up to twist into Seokjin’s upper sleeve. He thinks that he should’ve probably pulled away to say something like how the hell are you here already, or welcome home, or I missed you so much, there’s so many things that he wants to say. At the same time, he hopes Hoseok was right when he said that action speaks louder than words as Yoongi parts his mouth, trying his best to compress the millions of syllables into a single press of their lips.

The details don't matter for now. Seokjin is back, he’s kissing Yoongi, this is not a dream.

With practiced ease, Seokjin closes the door behind him with one hand whilst the other is pulling the younger by the waist—the gesture prompts Yoongi to let out a small sound that turns their seemingly innocent kiss into…something less innocent. Their torsos are flush against each other, tongues ardently dancing to retrace the shape of one another’s mouths, both attempting to make up for the days they spent in a brief separation. Passion and relief and apologies and love, all blend into one.

They move impossibly closer and the friction of their lower body parts ignites a stream of fire within Yoongi’s bones. He absent-mindedly juts his hips up, earning a groan from Seokjin.

“Yoongi,” Seokjin whispers into the kiss. He pulls away ever so slightly, just enough to run a thumb across Yoongi’s swollen bottom lip. “If we keep going, I’m afraid I won’t be able to hold myself back any longer. Don’t you think that we need to talk about this first?”

Yoongi opens his eyes to find that both of Seokjin’s pupils have blown wide, cinnamon irises boring down into his amber ones with a burning desire. That is when he knows that the time has come for them to face the impending rapture. It should probably scare him, the way everything is pacing forward this quick, but Yoongi feels no such thing. He knows that he’s ready, it’s been on his mind for several months now and he won’t let this opportunity go.

“There’s no need to hold back. You have—we have been waiting long enough. We can talk after.” He wraps his arms around Seokjin’s shoulders with his face buried into the crook of the elder’s neck, not willing to be apart for even an inch further now that Seokjin is right in front of him. “Unless, er, you’re up for just...a cuddle of some sort? You know, given that you just travelled hundreds of miles away and—”

“No, I’m not tired. Just—are you sure? I don’t want to push you.” Seokjin caresses his back.

Yoongi smiles, endeared by the genuine concern. He shakes his head. “You will never.”

With that, Seokjin wastes no time to tip Yoongi’s head back for an open-mouthed kiss, far hungrier than the last one. They stay like that making out for what feels like either one whole hour or three seconds—Yoongi loses track of time. He decides to beckon Seokjin towards his bedroom, careful not to wake Hoseok and Namjoon up from their peaceful dreams.

Once the door’s locked, Yoongi is immediately hauled into the mattress with one swift tug. The elder climbs on top of him to trail kisses down his jaw and neck, leaving deep puce marks that Yoongi doubts will disappear by the time he gets back to work next Monday—but that’s a problem for another day. For now, he lets himself be intimately pampered by the love of his life, eventually approaching the previously unexplored territory.

Before he knows it, Seokjin has shed their clothes in record time—something that isn’t very hard to do on Yoongi’s part since he is completely bare underneath his pyjamas. Yoongi furiously blushes when he finally, finally sees his boyfriend in all of his naked glory; lightly tanned complexion dusted in some pinkish hue, nicely toned abs and limbs no longer concealed by any of the loose fabrics Seokjin often wears. Yoongi glances down and–well, he prays to whichever god exists that he’s graced with enough endurance to take that.

Several more marks and some wandering hands later, the elder sits back to admire his work.

“Exquisite,” he murmurs, more to himself than anyone.

Under the dim lights, Yoongi almost doesn’t recognise his boyfriend. Gone was any trace of mirth on his face; all replaced by something a tad more feral–like he's downright insatiable. In a moment of daze, Yoongi wonders if this how a deer feels under the gaze of a starving lion.

Seokjin places a featherlight kiss on the corner of Yoongi’s lips within a heartbeat when he senses the apprehension. “We can stop anytime you wish to, okay? We have time, I’m not going anywhere.”

“Understandable, you may proceed.” Yoongi interlocks his legs around Seokjin’s hips to emphasise his words. They’ve finally got this far, the thought of Seokjin stopping midway because of him sends a pang into Yoongi’s chest, timidity be damned.

“So eager,” Seokjin grins, and he leans down to crash their lips together once more.

Although the foreplay has been pretty nerve wracking at the start, Yoongi gradually relaxes under the elder’s touch as Seokjin seems to know exactly what he’s doing. He thinks that it must be one of the best feelings in the world, to feel safe and cared for at his most vulnerable state. For the first time in a long while, Yoongi’s mind quiets down; all that’s left is a chant of his lover’s name, the gentle echo of Seokjin, Seokjin, Seokjin.

The elder puts a pillow under the younger’s hips after giving him another deep, almost bruising kiss. He then reaches out into Yoongi’s drawer, frowning when he gets a hold of a bottle of lube in his hand (how does Seokjiin know it’s there? Oh well).

“Baby,” Seokjin calls.

“Yes?”

“You’re running out of lube.”

“Seriously?“ Yoongi props himself up on both elbows, then quickly settles back. “Ah, no worries. Just use it all up.”

“But there’s only, like, a couple of drops left.”

“It’s gonna be enough, my hole isn’t six feet deep. Get back here.” Yoongi pulls Seokjin from across the bed.

“W–pause, pause. Hold on,” the elder doesn’t budge. “I also don’t see any condoms.”

Yoongi glances at his drawer, then blinks. “I’m clean. Uh, aren’t you?”

“Of course I am.”

“Well?”

With a resolved huff, Seokjin eventually relents. The elder slowly climbs back up to hover above Yoongi.

“Will you really be okay?” He pecks Yoongi’s forehead.

“I won’t if you stop. Just get in me before I get soft, please.”

“Okay, okay, Jesus. How is it that you’re still cute even when you’re being a brat?” Seokjin chuckles.

Seokjin goes down on Yoongi to prep him and make sure that every inch of the younger’s walls are thoroughly stretched and well-lubricated with the limited amount of liquid they have left. When two of Seokjin’s digits slide in to scissor him, Yoongi bites his bottom lip to hold back lewd moans that threaten to come out, reminding himself that his housemates are only one and two walls away.

After he feels loose enough, Yoongi motions Seokjin to stop the prep and start entering him. The elder complies, eyes never leaving Yoongi’s to gauge his reaction as he inserts himself inside the younger so agonisingly slow, but it still seems like Yoongi has overestimated his own flexibility because he keeps gasping and writhing at the burning penetration. The act prompts Seokjin to stop every so often to scatter little kisses all over his face—all of which have no effect to lessen the sting, but do somehow make Yoongi feel better. The fact that Seokjin won’t abruptly plummet his way in with the cost of his own pleasure makes the pain worthwhile.

When the elder is fully sheathed in, both of them are already covered in sweat.

“Hi,” Seokjin smiles.

“Hello,” Yoongi breathes out, “how’s the weather up there?”

“T’was nice,” Seokjin bends down, holding onto Yoongi’s hip and pulls back just until he’s almost completely out of the younger’s heat, “though not as nice as your embrace.”

Seokjin slams back in, and Yoongi fails to hold back a startled gasp.

After that, none of them say anything to each other, never when words seem futile as the sound of their ragged breaths fill the room; a language in and of itself. Seokjin doesn’t just pound mindlessly forward, though. He continues to mark the younger, sucking everywhere on Yoongi’s skin until it blooms. Yoongi arches up, nails digging into his boyfriend’s skin. Their bodies move in a sensual synergy as he meets the elder’s thrusts. He takes everything Seokjin gives him today; the push, the bruises, the pain, the pleasure. Yoongi has been missing out, knowing for a fact that he will never get enough of this once he understands how good Seokjin feels in him.

Halfway into his musings, Yoongi’s mind goes alert as the sign of a building up orgasm swoops across—he doesn’t want it to end like this. Yoongi tightens his hold, whispering a little ‘wait, let me,’ in Seokjin’s ear right before he shifts sideways, holding on tight so that Seokjin won’t slip off of him as he rolls over to swap their position.

A hint of surprise flashes through Seokjin’s face as he stares at the younger who currently straddles him—but he regains composure right away, smirking up at the bold turn of events. How annoying, Yoongi smiles. He is greatly annoyed at how smug Seokjin looks right now, so Yoongi leans down to erase the smirk off of those lips with his own.

With their mouths still attached, Yoongi starts to move at a glacial pace, focusing solely to find the perfect angle. Turns out, he doesn’t need to look for long because Yoongi almost cries out in bliss when Seokjin cups his hands around Yoongi’s bottom, burying his length even deeper inside of the younger and mercilessly hitting his sweet spot in the process. Yoongi breaks the kiss to allow them both to breathe. He keeps sinking down and drawing up, completely lost in the moment as a familiar wave of completion comes rolling all over his lower abdomen.

“—Close,” Yoongi nearly chokes, “Seokjin, I’m-I’m close.”

“Let go, baby. Come for me,” Seokjin sounds just as breathless. The elder begins stroking Yoongi to stimulate the climax and Yoongi is about to burst into tiny particles.

Seconds later, Yoongi spills onto Seokjin’s middle as he presses his face into the elder's neck to stifle a low, barely audible moan. Seokjin continues to sporadically snap his hips up, over and over until he finds his own release. Yoongi winces in discomfort. Everything feels too full and too much and too painful, but he doesn’t want the satisfaction to be one-sided. With his remaining consciousness, Yoongi lets himself be overwhelmed with oversensitivity as his boyfriend fills him up.

Seokjin drops against the pillows with a very limp Yoongi still plastered onto his chest. Under his post-coital haze, he belatedly notices that the younger has been laying alarmingly still on top of him; eyes screwed shut and brows furrowed.

“Yoongi,” Seokjin pants, “baby, are you okay? Does your body ache?”

“A little.”

The response comes out as a whimper, Seokjin pales.

“Sh—fuck, I’m so sorry. Oh, baby, did I hurt you that bad?”

“S’not the worst,” the younger feebly pats Seokjin’s sternum in reassurance, “you know I enjoyed it.”

“No, but you’re in pain. I knew the lube wasn’t enough. Jesus Christ, I am so fucking sorry, I should’ve stopped once you came.”

“Seokjin, I’m fine. It wasn’t because of the lube. You’re just too b—I mean, I just need more practice to adjust to your, uh, size. Is all.”

Seokjin lets out a low cackle. His hand is running up and down Yoongi’s side, giving Yoongi light squeezes that he hopes soothe the smaller’s tense muscles. “Is that an offer to go for a second round?”

Yoongi groans, but because it’s so half-hearted his voice ends up sounding like a mewl. Seokjin laughs again. He grabs a bundle of tissues from a box that had been very conveniently put on the bedside table (again, how did Seokjin even—oh, well).

“You know, how about I run us a hot bath, hm?” He asks whilst dabbing on their bodies. “We’ll sleep better clean. Plus, it will help you relieve some of the soreness.”

Yoongi wants to protest, the only thing he’s capable of doing right now after their rather laborious activity is to pass out for a week. On the flip side, the younger is well aware that both of them are currently covered in filth that they will regret sleeping on later that day, so Yoongi decides to nod instead of refusing. At the confirmation, Seokjin pecks Yoongi’s cheek in apology as he pulls out, extracting himself from the bed and into the en suite.

The room feels vastly empty once Seokjin leaves, has it always been this spacious every day?  Yoongi drowsily wonders. Just before he starts to doze off, Seokjin reappears.

“Hop on,” Seokjin says with his back facing Yoongi.

“I’m sorry?”

“I’ll piggyback you the rest of the way, come on.”

Yoongi laughs, “are you for real?” But he climbs on the broad expanse of Seokjin’s back, anyway, and—okay, it’s actually comfortable. Seokjin should probably piggyback him more often.

As soon as Seokjin carefully lowers him into the steaming water, Yoongi deflates. The taller steps in to sit behind Yoongi, pulling his cat of a boyfriend backwards to rest against his chest.

Yoongi pries his eyes open. There’s one thing that has been bugging his mind. “So how'd you manage to come home early?”

He can sense a mischievous smirk forming on his boyfriend’s face as Yoongi hears the elder say, “true magician never reveals his secret.”

“Tell me how, anyway,” Yoongi insists.

“Don’t wanna,” Seokjin retorts.

“Seokjin,”

“Yoongi.”

“Tell me or you’re sleeping on the sofa.”

Seokjin huffs. He nuzzles at Yoongi’s temple, breath fanning across the younger’s nape as he speaks, “you don’t get to suddenly call me, crying at my absence, tell me that you love me, hang up without any notice, then expect me to do nothing about it until the sun comes, baby.”

Yoongi ducks to hide his face between his knees, Seokjin doesn't technically answer his question, but the revelation caught the younger off guard.

“I’m sorry,” he bashfully says, ”the admission was lame. I should’ve told you in person.”

“Well, now that I’m here, you can say it again.”

Yoongi shakes his head, hugging his legs tighter. Seokjin has far too much fun doing this to him.

“You took me so decidedly well in bed moments ago and only now that you’re embarrassed?” The elder bemusedly questions, “alright, what if I go first—I love you, Yoongichi.”

Yoongi mumbles a string of unintelligible words.

“What was that?”

“Same here,” the younger squeaks, “please don’t make me say it again. I’m about to combust.”

Seokjin huffs again, this time less like laughter and more like relief. He holds Yoongi tighter. “Alright, I won’t. But thank you for saying it back, baby. It means the world to me.”

Yoongi lifts his head. After his breakdown last night, he thought that he’d bawl his eyes out again once he got to meet Seokjin upon his supposedly upcoming arrival. He had even planned to wear a pair of sunglasses and a mask to shield himself from the embarrassment of being seen crying in public because Yoongi assumed that his heart was not strong enough to meet its current possessor just yet.

That moment never comes. What he feels right now is nothing but a great deal of ease, peace, and comfort. Seokjin’s touch is cathartic, to say the least. He no longer feels suffocated by an unknown melancholy, the hot air balloon in his stomach is gone for good. He can get used to this, Yoongi thinks. He can definitely get used to love.

There is, however, one last thing to say.

“It’s blood on my hands.” Yoongi declares.

“A what?”

“Not, like, literally. It’s—I’m at fault. I feel like I restrained our relationship from properly growing.” Yoongi turns around, eyes cast down. “I’m sorry for putting you at arm’s length, for not opening myself enough and unintentionally alienating you. I’m sorry it took way too long for me to actually do anything about us.”

Seokjin’s gaze softens. His arms the familiar warmth around Yoongi’s cold skin, grounding. “Baby, you know that you’re allowed to have boundaries, right? Even with me?”

Yoongi gives a tentative nod.

“You’re okay. You can share if you feel like sharing. Or just sit quietly next to me if you don’t, I don’t mind. Find whatever form of comfort you need in me.”

“But it’s not fair! What about you? I haven’t...I’ve never done anything for you in return.”

“Really?” Seokjin cocks his head sideways. “Then who drove me to the hospital at four in the morning when I got food poisoning earlier this year, my boyfriend’s doppelgänger?”

“Well, no—“

“And who voluntarily bathed my dog when his fur was matted with mud? Who accompanied me to fish in January when it snowed? Who put in the effort to learn how to play the guitar in a month for my birthday?”

Yoongi sighs in defeat. He knows where this conversation is heading towards. “I guess that was me.”

Seokjin beams. He tenderly brushes the strands of Yoongi’s fringe away from his eyes. “Yoongi, I said a bunch of corny shit to flirt with you, but I swear on my grandmother’s ash that none of them is a lie. You’re so good, perfect for me. You’re patient and gentle and hardworking and drop-dead gorgeous. I’m glad that you took your time with me because that means we’re not playing around. Don’t ever apologise for that.”

Yoongi feels his cheeks redden. Perfect for me, Seokjin has said. Those words will linger in Yoongi’s head for eternity.

“Am I? More gorgeous than yourself?” The younger manages to tease.

Seokjin pouts. “We have different kinds of gorge, sugar. Don’t start there.”

“Gorge isn’t even a real word.”

“Sure is! Look it up and you’ll find gorge in every dictionary.”

“Yes, but that gorge doesn’t translate to beauty.”

“I don’t care.” Seokjin steals a quick peck. “I make my own rules. You’re my gorge all the same.”

There’s not much that Yoongi can do other than fondly rolling his eyes. He’ll let Seokjin have this one.

“By the way, Yoongi,”

As Yoongi looks up, he finds Seokjin’s expression has morphed into a much serious look. His heart starts to pick up a quicker rhythm as he answers, “yes?”

“I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Seokjin looks uncharacteristically nervous. His hands roam down to find Yoongi’s, absently playing with the long fingers in his grasp. “Since, uh...now that my brother is engaged, I was wondering if you’ll—wait. Before I say anything, keep in mind that there’s no pressure, alright? You’re free to decline.”

Yoongi nods. Seokjin is embarrassed, how cute. He purses his lips to suppress a smile that threatens to break on his face.

The elder continues. “What I’m trying to say is, since Joon and Minnie are going to spend even more time together, rather than finding a new place, I was-I was wondering if you want to switch places with Minnie instead, and move in with me.”

Yoongi’s eyes widen. This is not at all what he’s expecting to hear. “You—?”

“If you think that it's a terrible idea, forget I said anything.”

“No, Seokjin.” He grips Seokjin’s hands. “Are you...are you sure?”

“Positive.” Seokjin kisses Yoongi’s knuckles. “Even more so today.”

Yoongi lets out a snort. “You saw my ass once and immediately decided that you want to have it close all the time?”

Seokjin doesn’t laugh, but Yoongi can see that the tips of his ears start to change colour. “For the record, it’s one fine ass, but that’s not the main reason. I want you close all the time. Not just the ass.”

“Right, right, of course.” Yoongi’s smile fades as realisation hits him. “But Hoseok...”

“Oh, yeah. No need to worry about Hobi, we’ve talked about this—er, this is frankly his idea.”

Yoongi narrows his eyes. “Okay, so this is part of his big scheme to evict me and adopt Jimin, I wholeheartedly regret my previous concern. That child loathes me.”

“No, he loves you to bits!”

“He better does. Now, back to the part where you say that my ass is fine.”

Seokjin chuckles. “Okay. So, I’m serious about the offer, but I also meant it when I said that you can have your boundaries. I’ll understand if you think that it’s too soon for us, or, you know—if you still want to have your own space.”

“I see. Well...” Yoongi trails off. The voices in his head are bombarding him with tens of questions all at once; Are you ready to go there? Is Seokjin worth sharing a space with? Do you think you’ll be happy? Do you want to live without your beloved housemates?

Seokjin has always been the braver one between the two of them; the one who asked Yoongi out on a date, the one who confessed to him first. Now, he’s the one who asks Yoongi to move in with him. And then there’s Yoongi himself, someone who claimed to be Seokjin’s lover but cringed halfway into renaming the elder’s contact from Kim Seokjin to Boyfriend, leaving it in a perpetual state of Boyf.

But Yoongi had always said yes to every single one of Seokjin’s proposals. Strangely, or rather unsurprisingly enough, he knows that the answer to all of his own questions is no different. After all, he learned that excessive space is something that he no longer wants to have with Seokjin.

“Baby?” Seokjin cups the younger’s jaw in concern when Yoongi stays silent for a few seconds too long.

“Sorry, I zoned out. Well, I think—I feel like I will need to have a serious talk with the boys first, especially Namjoon.” Yoongi flicks the tub water. From the corner of his eye, he can see Seokjin perking up, “I need to teach them how to properly operate the stove and the oven—maybe even the dishwasher. Actually, never mind, I don’t wanna repeat Taehyung’s Bokkeumbap Incident. I need to convince Jimin, too. Maybe Jungkook can help me with the teaching part. God, to think that Hoseok will never let me hear the end of this—“

“Baby.” Seokjin titters.

“—Forgive me, I’m sidetracking. Anyways. I, uh, I need to talk to them. See everything through. But Seokjin,”

Yoongi peers up, and maybe it’s the overall ambience, or just Yoongi’s fucking inner sap being extra sappy today, but right now as they’re staring deep into each other’s eyes, Yoongi could’ve sworn that he could recite a poetry out of the tinge of gold in Seokjin’s irises alone. He holds into that thought, running the tips of his fingers down the elder’s face.

“I’m certain we’ll be able to figure something out.” Yoongi finishes with a smile.

The elder smiles back. Leaning into the touch, his own hand reaches up to clasp around Yoongi’s fingers.

“I love the sound of that, figuring things out with you.” Seokjin whispers as he guides Yoongi into a kiss.

The temperature of the water has significantly dropped until nearly tepid, yet once again, as their lips brush, Yoongi’s heart feels indefinitely warm.